Maximum Panic
by WrenClayton
Summary: Takes place in 7x6, Slash Fiction. You're unlucky enough to be one of the patrons in a local diner when a pair of Leviathans dressed as the Winchesters start shooting the place up. Warnings: Reader-insert nonconsensual sex, gun violence.


You're lucky you happened to be looking at those guys. You were hiding under the diner table almost before the first gunshot rang out. Most of the other diners weren't so quick.

The pair of men caught your eye as soon as they came in through the door. You've never seen them around before, and you know most people in town. They're both tall - one of them is _really _tall - and _built_, too. You're ashamed to say that when you shyly watched them from your booth in the corner - sharing a lonely milkshake with yourself - your thoughts weren't "those guys look like the types who'd shoot up a diner, I should call the police." You were kinda wondering what they looked like naked.

These thoughts quickly ended when the taller one with the long hair pulled a gun out of his jacket and blasted a few shots into the ceiling.

You hug your legs to your chest as you cower under the table, trying not to make a sound as gunfire and shrieks echo through the diner. You knocked your milkshake over in your haste to hide, and now you can see it dripping off the other end of the table, falling in creamy drops onto the seat of the opposite booth.

"Hey hey _hey_! Keep that thing on! I want the whole world to know what Sam and Dean are capable of!"

It takes you a minute to realize that Psycho Killer #1 is talking to the boy with the camera phone. The boy they're forcing to record this slaughter. That doesn't make an ounce of sense, why would you record yourself committing a crime? You flinch as a shot fires off frighteningly close to your table. Boots stomp past and you press a hand over your mouth, shaking. The only thing you can think of is that these men are off-the-wall insane. That's not comforting at all.

Between the screams of fear and the thunder of the guns, you can hear the absolutely sickening noise of bodies hitting the floor. One by one, the people in the diner drop. There isn't a damn thing you can do but keep quiet and pray to god those men don't think to look under the tables.

The screaming stops a few seconds before the gunfire does, the last rattle dying off reluctantly. When silence finally falls, you don't notice for a few seconds, because the gunfire is still pounding in your sore ears. At last you register that the room has gone quiet, and you don't dare to breathe.

"Did you get all of 'em?"

You recognize the voice as coming from the man with the leather jacket, though all you can see is the underside of your table. There's a moment of heavy breathing, a terrified whimper, and then you hear the other voice say, "All but one."

There's a bang, and your whole body flinches.

In the silence that follows, you can hear the sound of something dripping. You assume it's just the milkshake on your table, until you realize the noise is coming from farther away.

You're expecting - _praying _- that these psychotic men will just leave, when Psycho Killer #2 - Mr. Leather Jacket - speaks up.

" ... Did you really just kill the last fucking one?"

Awkward silence. Then... "I thought that was the idea."

You hear an exasperated groan. Then some shuffling and a small beep that you recognize as the camera phone being turned off. "We were supposed to save one," Psycho Killer #2 snarls. "Remember the plan? Maximum panic. And nothing gets humans riled up like their stupid reproductive habits." You hear another angry grunt. "And I am _not _mating with one of them _dead._"

You don't know what the _fuck_ they're on about. The bit about human reproductive habits sounds like total nonsense to your fear-dizzy head, but you recognize the word "panic" all right. Your heart is pounding so loudly you're afraid they'll hear it.

Psycho Killer #1 snorts, mumbling, "I was hoping you'd forget that... "

"I oughta _eat_ you," Psycho Killer #2 hisses. There's a flopping sound, as of a dead body being rolled over. "_Ugh, _they're repulsive enough when they're alive. The hell are we going to do now?"

"Well, that last one wouldn't have been any good anyway. These are male forms, we'd need a female."

"No, according to this one's memories, a male could have gotten the job done."

" ... _How_?"

"Uh... one male puts his genitals in the other's rectal cavity, I think."

Silence for a moment. Then Psycho Killer #1 remarks, "Fuck human mating habits are disgusting."

"No, uh... " Psycho Killer #2 sounds confused and a little distressed. "This one seems to think it feels _really _good."

"Even the butt thing?"

" ... Especially the butt thing."

A snort. "Well, doesn't fucking matter. I'm not mating with the dead ones either. Let's just call it a day."

"Well, we have to do _something _awful," snaps Psycho Killer #2, stomping across the room. You squeak and scoot as far under your table as you can as he walks by. When the boots stop, so does your heart.

" ... Now isn't that odd."

The second pair of boots walk over and you hear Psycho Killer #1 ask, "What's odd?"

"Someone was sitting at this table." The boots shuffle. "There's a spilled drink. But I don't see a body. Did you shoot them? I didn't shoot them."

You pray and pray and pray, but no amount of wishful thinking stops those knees from bending. Before you know it, Mr. Leather Jacket is kneeling down in front of the table, his face breaking into a cocky grin at the sight of you.

"Hey, sweetheart!"

It's all you can do not to scream when he reaches for you. You kick at him, try to keep him away, but his strong hand grabs your ankle and wrenches you across the floor. He's _powerful, _staggeringly powerful, you wouldn't have a chance of fighting him off. He drags you out from under the table like you're just a doll, grabbing the front of your shirt aggressively and using it to hold you still. You're lying on your back, staring up at two tall, muscular men who are still splattered with the blood of people they just slaughtered. Leather Jacket is grinning at you, but Mr. Long Hair has nothing but scorn on his face.

"Now, don't worry," encourages the man leaning over you, chewing his lip as he runs his hand up your leg, squeezing as he goes. The touches make your stomach flip but you're too scared to move. "I'll... oh, what's the term... _I'll be gentle_."

The tall one snorts. "_I_ won't."

Leather Jacket shakes his head and laughs when he admits, "I won't either."

Every part of you wants to fight, to run. But that fucking monster of a man with the long hair is watching you like he's expecting it, like he's waiting for the smallest excuse to lift that gun and blast your brains across the floor. So you don't move as Leather Jacket feels you up, exploring your body with his hands. It's as if he's not sure how a human body is put together and is trying to figure it all out right now, by touch.

"Cue up the camera phone, will you?" Leather Jacket drawls, his breath coming short.

Long Hair snorts. "You sound like you're actually looking forward to this."

"Captain chuckles is supplying me with a whole lot of memories in this department." Leather Jacket chews his lip, rubbing his hand between your legs. The touch sends a jolt through your body, and a moan threatens to spill from your lips. "He knows a _lot _of fun things to do to a pretty lady. I think... I think I'm actually gonna like this."

"Yeah. Whatever. Freak." The tall one starts fiddling with the camera phone as Leather Jacket yanks your shirt up and slides a hungry hand over your bra, feeling you. You make a choked sound and shiver under the possessive touch, unable to stop him. His hand runs down, over your stomach, and he makes a low, eager noise when he grabs your pants and wrenches them down your legs. Your heart is pounding, and your limbs have forgotten how to move. You're paralyzed as the man trails his knuckles over your bare thigh, just below the line of your panties.

" ... Oh." Long Hair is looking down at you with surprise and more than a little desire. "That, um... Fuck... That actually does look... appealing... "

"Wait your turn," Leather Jacket growls, dragging you under him. Your face goes pale when he starts undoing his belt. There's a bulge in his jeans, and it's large enough that your mouth goes dry.

The camera phone clicks on and Long Hair holds it up, turning it towards his face. "Good morning, law enforcement officers," he begins. "Sorry about that interruption. Me and my brother Dean here are making an extra special video, just for you." He beams into the camera, and the sight is frightening. "One you'll be legally required to watch!"

You stop paying attention to what he's saying when your panties are literally ripped off and the shreds are tossed away. You gasp when the completely psychotic murderer apparently named Dean grins hungrily and plunges two fingers inside you.


End file.
